


Step One of Discovery

by orphan_account



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: A lot of talking, Asexual Character, Asexuality, Cuddling, F/M, M/M, Multi, Past Relationships, Some sad stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-15
Updated: 2018-01-15
Packaged: 2019-03-05 00:49:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13376595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: The first person he told was Sally.-Or: Shane Madej, and a few memories around his asexuality.





	Step One of Discovery

**Author's Note:**

> Something of a sequel to [Expectations, Due to Change](http://archiveofourown.org/works/13373832). This was churned out in a few hours because an anon sent a message and I got an idea. It was pretty much written in one go and I unfortunately don't have the time or energy to check over it, so I apologise in advance if it seems a bit choppy of if there's any mistakes. Still, I hope you enjoy it!

The first person he told was Sally.

Sally was lovely, and intelligent, and beautiful and sweet and had a sharp sense of humour that had left Shane doubled over in laughter on more than one occasion. She sat a row down from him in his media lectures and was in his tutorial group, and they got to talking not too far into the semester and it didn’t take too long for him to ask her out on a date, because… _well_.

Because why not?

Because she was _pretty_ , and she had a wit that matched his own and a passion for a niche genre of movies that made her eyes flash when she sat on his small dorm bed, gesticulating wildly as she talked about media responses and reviews and the impact this particular genre had had on television and cinema as a whole and the small, quiet communities who loved it just as fiercely as she did, and Shane had looked at her in the midst of one of these beautiful, burning-hot, love-fuelled rants and felt something twist inside his chest and thought _oh_.

And thought, _I kind of want to kiss her_.

And thought, _I think this is what a crush is_.

And so he’d asked her out after their next tutorial, and she’d said yes, and she’d grinned in that fox-sharp way of hers and scrawled her number onto the skin of his arm and told him to text and he’d laughed and said that he’d message her on Facebook instead because they already _knew_ each other on Facebook, and she’d laughed back and said _alright_ , and he’d been grinning so widely it _hurt_ and hadn’t been able to fall asleep for hours that night because all he could think was that she said yes, and that they had a date.

They had the date, and it went well. They had a second, and that went even better. They had a few not-dates, where they hung out together on campus but never officially called them ‘dates’, because they had been friends before and what they were doing now was so, so similar to what they did before, except now Sally would sometimes reach out to take his hand and Shane would sometimes lean in to press a kiss to her cheek when she got particularly excited, and things were good. They had the third date. Things were still good.

Things were _great_.

It was after the fourth date, during the first not-date that followed it, where things went wrong.

They’d been kissing on Shane’s bed for a while, slow and languid and content, and at some point Shane had ended up on his back with Sally straddling him, her hands starting to slip up under his shirt, and he’d liked how it felt because it was _nice_ , because skin-to-skin contact was pleasant and made him feel warm and comforted right down to his very bones, so when she’d murmured against his lips to ask him to take it off he hadn’t hesitated to obey.

Her shirt came off too. That was nice. Her bra was pretty, made of black fabric with a teal lace overlay, and he stopped kissing for long enough to compliment it and she’d chuckled and said _do you want me to take it off?_ and he’d laughed a little and said _no thanks, it’s just pretty_ , and she’d frowned and seemed confused but then Shane kissed her again, and she kissed him deeper, and he hummed happily and ran his hands over her shoulders and back and across the strap of her bra. She giggled a little against his lips when he started fiddling with the clasp absently, because bra clasps were a clever little design that he thought was quite nifty, and she’d squirmed a little above him and her breaths started turning more into gasps and she said _oh, so you want to take it off, do you?_ and Shane had shook his head and said _no, really, this is wonderful,_ and then Sally had sat up.

“I don’t get what’s happening,” she said, with no preamble. “Are we gonna fuck or what?”

Shane frowned, and pushed himself up onto his elbows. He didn’t- he- was that what she had been thinking? That they were going to have sex? Because he’d- he didn’t _think_ he’d been doing anything that would’ve hinted to that. He’d just been kissing her, and enjoying himself, and feeling her skin under his fingertips because it felt _nice_ and she was warm and her bra was pretty and he could appreciate that in the same way he appreciated fine art or a particularly well-shot scene in a movie, because it _was_ art to him and nothing more. “I wasn’t planning on it,” he replied, and could hear the confusion in his own voice.

“Then why the fuck were you playing with my bra and all that shit?”

Shane didn’t know what to say. He didn’t say anything, and just shrugged instead.

Sally sighed, and looked away. “… Are we _ever_ gonna have sex?” she asked eventually, and Shane shrugged again. “ _Shane_.”

“I don’t know.”

“That’s not an answer.”

Another shrug. He didn’t feel like he could look at her any more. He heard a sigh, and a moment later Sally spoke again.

“Alright,” she said, “Do you want to have sex now?”

He could answer that question. That was simple. “No.”

“Okay. Do you want to have sex in the future?”

That was harder to answer. “I don’t- I don’t think so.”

“… Do you want to have sex _in general_?”

Shane frowned. That was- that was a question he’d never thought about before. “What do you mean?” he asked, and Sally had smiled, just a little, and Shane had never felt more confused.

“ _I mean_ ,” she said, “Some people don’t really care about sex. They’re just- I don’t know why, but they don’t. A friend of mine from back home was like that. Confused the fuck out of me, but, y’know, her choice and all. Said she was into girls but didn’t want to fuck, which I didn’t get, because some girls are super fucking hot, but that was just who she was.” Sally lifted a hand, ran it through her hair, and Shane watched the light glinting off the dark strands. He realised, absently, that this could well be the last time he’d see her like this, in this setting. “So,” she said, “I’ll ask you again – do you want to have sex in general?”

Shane felt like he could answer the question this time.

“I don’t know,” he said, and elaborated. “I just- sex isn’t my thing, you know?”

“Have you tried it?”

“Yeah.” Once. He’d been sober and she’d been sober and they’d both been giggling and kissing and flirting and she’d invited him back to her room and he’d gone because he’d heard it was the right thing to do, and they’d kissed some more and she’d pulled his shirt off and he’d realised where things were going but thought _hey, it’s worth a shot, I **am** curious to know what it’s like_ and so he’d taken her shirt off and ran his hands up her skirt and felt the soft smoothness of her thighs and it had happened, and afterwards she’d rolled over and asked if she would see him again and Shane, lying there in her bed with thoughts of skin and tongue and hands and moans still flickering behind his eyes had felt his gut _freeze_ at the thought of it happening to him ever again, and he’d said _I don’t think so_ , and he’d said _sorry_ , and he’d left.

Sally didn’t hear all that.

Sally just heard the _yeah_ , and seemed to find that answer enough.

“Not for you?” she asked, and Shane shook his head.

“No,” he said, so quietly he was afraid she wouldn’t hear it, even in the quiet stillness of his room, “Not for me.”

“Okay,” Sally said, and sat in silence for a few moments.

After a while, she pulled her shirt back on, and when she spoke again she sounded almost sad.

“Shane,” she said, and he knew instantly where this was going, what was about to happen, “I’m gonna- you’re lovely, okay, really, you’re really sweet, but I- this is-“

“It’s okay,” Shane said softly, even though it wasn’t. “I get it.”

Sally smiled. “Thanks,” she said, and Shane’s heart twisted a little at how easily she took the provided out. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

“… This was fun while it lasted though, you know?”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah…”

For a long while, they were both silent.

“Listen, Shane,” she said eventually, and he felt something settle in his stomach, cold and uncomfortable, because that tone… it didn’t sound great. He’d felt earlier like he knew what was about to happen, but now- now he was _certain_. “You’re- you’re a really sweet guy, alright? Really sweet. And that’s nice and all, but I was kind of hoping to get laid at some point, you know? So I-” She paused, took a breath, and continued. “I want to do this properly, no confusion.” Another pause. And then: “I think we stop this.”

“…Oh.” Shane felt cold. Which was ridiculous, because he’d _known_ this was coming since she first asked him about sex, but he felt cold all the same. He felt like all the warmth he’d been feeling up to this point had just vanished, pulled out through his bones like his marrow had been turned to ice and hoarfrost.

“Not that- I wasn’t dating you _just_ for sex,” she rushed to clarify, and she was fiddling with her shirt now, plucking at the soft fabric of it as she balled it in her lap. Shane remembered the feeling of it, the faint weight of the light cotton, and remembers how it had contrasted her skin. It had looked beautiful on her, simple as it was. He’d wanted to hug her close, bury his face against her neck and enjoy the feeling of her skin and the cotton of her shirt and the warmth of it all in one go.

It seemed like he might not get that chance.

Sally took a breath, and shifted backwards a little. He missed the warmth of her on his hips and thighs almost immediately. “I like you,” she said, “But I…”

“I know,” Shane said, “I get it.”

“… No hard feelings?” Sally asked, and Shane summoned a smile from somewhere and shook his head and didn’t think about how much he’d loved their easy and comfortable closeness.

“No hard feelings,” he said, and Sally smiled back. Shane couldn’t look at it. It was too familiar. It _hurt_.

He looked away.

“Hey,” Sally said, and Shane felt a palm press to the side of his face, and looked up. “You’re a really sweet guy, Shane. And I’m- I’m real sorry this happened, because you’re nice, and I really hope we can be friends after this, because you _are_ my friend. We can still hang out, right?”

Shane nodded. He couldn’t get any words past the lump in his throat, the painful pull of muscles that were starting to tug at his temples and his tearducts.

Sally leaned in, and pressed a kiss to his forehead. “You’ll find someone,” she assured him, and her voice had been just as sweet as the first time they’d spoken, sweet and kind but underlaid with a confidence that had made Shane adore listening to her talk about her passions. “One day. You’ll find someone.”

Shane nodded again, and managed not to cry until she pulled her sweater back on, pressed another kiss to his cheek, and shut the door to his room behind her.

* * *

“I really liked Sally,” Shane mumbles, and hears the words get caught on Ryan’s hoodie. Ryan’s sitting on his lap, arms wrapped around Shane’s shoulders, and Shane’s had his face pressed to Ryan’s shoulder the whole time they’ve been in this position.

“She sounds nice,” Ryan offers, like he’s not sure he should be saying it, and Shane laughs weakly, just a little.

“She _was_ nice,” he agrees, and sniffles. He doesn’t want to get snot on his boyfriends hoodie. This whole… this whole _thing_ is bad enough as it is. “She was really nice. We did- we actually stayed friends after that. Kinda.”

“Kinda?”

Shane doesn’t answer. Not immediately.

“I mean,” Ryan says, noticing his silence, “You don’t- you don’t have to talk about anything you don’t want to, baby. If you don’t want to talk about this or- y’know, if you don’t want me asking questions, just say the word.”

“No,” Shane says, and he takes a breath, “It’s- this is alright.” It’s alright like this, he thinks, when he can’t see Ryan’s face. When he doesn’t have to look him in the eye, and wonder if Ryan can see all of Shane’s worries. If Ryan can see the little clock that’s ticking over in Shane’s head, still waiting to reach the day and hour and minute when Ryan decides that Shane not wanting to have sex is too much for him, that Shane being _asexual_ is too much for him, and leaves.

He knows he shouldn’t have the clock in his head. They’ve spoken about it plenty, especially after the first grand reveal, and Ryan’s reassured him time and time again that it’s okay, that he really doesn’t mind, that if Shane ever feels like he doesn’t want to give Ryan handjobs or blow him but not partake in sex himself then that’s okay, that he never wants to make Shane uncomfortable because he _loves_ him, and yet…

And yet.

And yet here Shane is, crying quietly into his boyfriend’s hoodie because his brain got the better of him during a quiet evening at home and convinced him that this was only going to last for so long. He forces his fingers to relax, not wanting to wrinkle Ryan’s shirt (and he’s sure that his hands were fisted tight enough to force wrinkles through the hoodie and into Ryan’s t-shirt instead), and smooths them over Ryan’s back. He does it again, and feels the now-familiar shape of Ryan’s spine. He shifts his fingers, presses them to the curve and dip of Ryan’s vertebrae, and counts his breathing with every vertebra that he encounters.

 _Breathe in_. Shift his hands up, feel the curve of bone beneath them, beneath the softness of cotton on skin. _Breathe out_. The dip that follows, the beautiful hollow that Shane has now traced with his tongue and teeth on more than one occasion.

He thinks Ryan must notice what he’s doing, because he barely moves his hands more than few inches up Ryan’s spine before Ryan’s speaking again, murmuring low and soft and gentle in Shane’s ear.

“Hey,” he says, and it’s clear that he doesn’t mind if Shane doesn’t answer his last question in full. “It’s alright, Shane.”

“I know,” Shane mumbles, and squeezes his eyes shut as more tears threaten to escape.

“I’m here.”

“I know.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

“…I know.”

Ryan notices the pause, the slight hesitation, and he doesn’t question it. He doesn’t have to. He _knows_. “I’m not,” he clarifies, and Shane trembles, just a little. He _wants_ to believe him. He really, truly, desperately does, and he _knows_ that he has no reason not to. And yet, in the quiet lull following a day at work that had been so damn _good_ , his brain had still told him that every single one of his fears was inevitable. “I’m not,” Ryan says again, and Shane can feel the muscles in his arms flex when he tightens his hug for a moment. “I’m really, really not, baby.” There’s a shift of movement, and Shane feels lips press to the top of his head.

He thinks _I love this man so much_.

He thinks _Please never leave me_.

He thinks _I want to believe you_.

He trembles in Ryan’s arms again, and gets another kiss for his worries. “Baby,” Ryan says, and it sounds like a sigh, like a single word that’s filled with so much love than Shane can hardly bear it. “You’re- I’m really not going anywhere, alright?” Shane doesn’t respond. “Nod if you can hear me.” Shane nods, and feels Ryan’s hoodie brush against his cheek. He smells familiar. He smells like home. “I chose to be here, remember?” Shane nods again. “I’m here because you texted me because you were freaking out and you wanted me to come hang out with you to calm you down and maybe bring a movie as well, and I did that and got my ass here at lightning speed _because I love you_. You know that, right?” There’s a pause, and then Shane nods again. “I’m here because I love you, and I made you sit the fuck down and stop pacing yourself into an early grave because I love you – hey, don’t laugh at that, you were _literally_ gonna wear a hole in your floorboards if you’d kept it up – and now I’m going to reassure you as much as you need me to because I love you, you moron.”

Shane can’t help it – he smiles just a little at that.

And it’s like Ryan can feel his smile, because after a second Shane can _feel_ Ryan’s silent chuckle reverberating through him, and he turns his head and presses his cheek to Ryan’s shoulder, and breathes in _Ryan_ and _home_ , and thinks _I love you so much it hurts_.

“…You want to tell me more about Sally?” Ryan asks after a while, and Shane feels his smile drop, and he shakes his head.

“Not really,” he says. “There’s- there’s not much else to tell.”

“Alright,” Ryan says, “I’m glad you guys stayed friends, though.”

“Yeah,” Shane replies, “Yeah, so am I.” He’s glad they were together for the brief time that they were, as well – a little while after she’d left his room on that one awful, _awful_ night he’d dug out his laptop and done some googling and found the term _asexuality_ , and he told her about it the next time he saw her and she’d grinned and laughed and wacked his arm and said _See, I told you it was a thing!_ and he’d grinned back and didn’t think about how much he missed pressing kisses to her cheeks between classes.

Shane turns his head, and presses a kiss to Ryan’s neck, and for a while he feels the steady beat of Ryan’s pulse beneath his lips.

There’s a soft murmur from above him. “You alright there, baby?”

Shane hums, and tugs Ryan in a bit closer. He needed this hug, he thinks – he needed something to ground him, to secure him, to make him stop feeling like the air was so thin he was going to float through it, and it turned out that having Ryan Bergara sitting astride his lap, both arms wrapped securely around Shane’s shoulders, Shane’s head resting against Ryan’s shoulder, was perfect at doing just that.

Shane nods, and doesn’t say anything.

Neither does Ryan. He knows that it’s best to stay quiet, and wait for Shane to speak first. Shane feels Ryan’s hands shifts across his back in slow, absent circles, and holds Ryan a bit tighter.

It’s quiet.

“Did I ever tell you about Liam?” Shane asks eventually, and smiles against Ryan’s shoulder when Ryan makes a negative sound above him. It’s not a happy smile. “I don’t think you would’ve liked him much.”

“Why not?” Ryan doesn’t sound annoyed. He just sounds curious.

“I- you’ll see.”

* * *

Liam was… Liam was a bad decision from the start.

Shane had been single for quite a while when he met Liam, and he’d know he shouldn’t have said yes to his ask for a date from the very beginning. Liam was _nice_ , sure, and he was damn attractive and had a tendency for standing around in tank tops that Shane found very, _very_ attractive, and his hands looked beautiful whenever he scratched little doodles on receipts or on napkins or on whatever scrap of paper he happened to have to hand, and Shane had been attracted to him in the gentle, absent way that he was attracted to so many people. It was different from a crush but was more than just an aesthetics thing, and he’d never figured out what to call it but it seemed he didn’t _have_ to, because one day he was leaving his slightly shitty job and saying goodbye to his slightly shitty co-workers until it was just him and Liam left, and Liam had looked him up and down in a not altogether _subtle_ way and had asked Shane if he wanted to get a drink.

And Shane, single and lonely and quietly _longing_ for affection, glanced over him, and saw the half-smile on his face and the line of his jaw, and saw how Liam’s hand was flexing at his side like it wanted to reach out for Shane, and he’d smiled and shrugged and said _sure,_ and something in his gut said _no_.

Something in his gut said _this will not end well_.

And Shane heard that, and ignored it, and kept his hands safely in the pockets of his boring grey slacks as he followed Liam to the bar, and stopped himself from reaching for Liam’s hands when Liam passed him a pint, and tried not to be _too_ obvious about leaning into the contact when Liam, a few drinks in, slung an arm around Shane’s shoulders and tugged him in closer and looked him in the eye with a slight smirk and said _Shane. You know you’re hot, right?_

Shane flushed, and laughed. This close he could see the strange green-grey of Liam’s eyes, could see the stubble scattered across his jaw. He wanted to touch it. He wanted to kiss him, and feel Liam’s stubble press against his face, and he wanted to run a hand up Liam’s side and see if the abs he claimed he had from playing football were actually there or not, and his gut said _this is a bad decision_ and Shane looked back at Liam and summoned a smirk of his own and said _You’re not too bad yourself_.

They didn’t kiss at the bar.

They didn’t kiss until they were tumbling out of the Uber and into Liam’s apartment, mouths meeting the moment the door shut behind them. Liam’s hands were greedy, untucking Shane’s shirt and loosening his tie and roaming carelessly underneath the fabric, slipping down to Shane’s hips and then back up to dance across his ribs like Shane’s skin was a rare commodity they couldn’t get enough of. After a while Liam stepped in closer, and Shane hummed at the warmth and met Liam when he moved in to kiss him, and then Liam moved away for a moment to remove his shirt and Shane saw that he did actually have the abs he claimed he had and Shane reached for them, and reached for Liam, and they kissed and it was _good_.

And Shane’s gut was loud and insistent, and Shane ignored it.

He shouldn’t have.

Eventually, Liam started pressing in closer. Eventually, Shane noticed the hardness in Liam’s pants. Eventually, when they had been making out for a while and they were both shirtless and Shane had been running his hands across Liam’s sides and chest and back, feeling the flex of muscles and being silently awed by them, Liam tried to slip his hand inside Shane’s pants.

And Shane gasped, and jerked his head back against the door, and said _I don’t want to have sex_.

And Liam had stopped, and gone very still and very quiet, and withdrew his hand and took a step back.

 _What_? he said, and it sounded more like a statement than a question. Shane could see the tent in Liam’s pants, could feel the flush that was climbing up his own chest, and he-

He needed to explain himself.

 _I’m ace,_ Shane said, and took Liam’s long silence to catch his breath _. I’m sorry,_ he continued. _I thought you knew_.

Which, of course, was the point when it all went wrong, and his gut was proven wrong once again.

“…What the fuck?” Liam said after a long silence.

Shane shrugged, and slipped his hands into his pockets. Suddenly he didn’t feel like touching Liam. Suddenly he didn’t feel like kissing him. Suddenly he was paying very close attention to his gut, because it seemed like his gut was _right_.

“I’m asexual,” he said, in case he hadn’t been clear enough the first time around. “I don’t experience sexual attraction.”

“But you were _flirting_ with me,” Liam retorted, his words sharp and heavy like he was slinging daggers. “Don’t- I’m not stupid, Shane, you’ve been fucking flirting with me for fucking _weeks_ , and you fucking- you were _kissing me back_. You fucking kissed me!”

“I like kissing!” Shane said, and immediately hated how _defensive_ he sounded. “Kissing and making out is great!”

“What, and sex isn’t?”

“Sex is alright,” Shane replied, “I just- y’know, it’s not for me.”

Liam stared at him for long enough for Shane to start feeling uncomfortable, to start glancing away, and Shane didn’t know what to expect when Liam started to speak again.

“You’ve fucked before, right?”

Shane shrugged. “Yeah.”

“But you don’t like sex?”

“No, sex is fine, I just- I don’t really care about it.”

There’d been a long, painful silence after that, until eventually Liam had opened his mouth, and said something that made Shane’s heart _crack_.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

* * *

“Liam’s a dick,” Ryan says, and Shane laughs, just a little.

“Yeah,” he agrees, “He was.”

“He was also _wrong_.”

“I mean, I don’t know about that…”

“ _Shane_ ,” Ryan says, and Shane can hear the exasperation in his voice. It is not the first time they’ve been over this. “Dude. You _know_ he was wrong. We’ve talked about this.”

Shane just shrugs. His mind’s not exactly in a happy place at the moment, and he doesn’t want to say how some part of him, nestled somewhere at the back of his mind, is loudly and insistently pointing out that, actually, Liam was completely correct. That Liam is right and Ryan is wrong and that there _is_ something wrong with Shane, that Shane _is_ broken in some way, because sex is a natural part of life and it’s an actual goddamn _necessity_ to continue a species, and there is no good reason why Shane doesn’t care about it or want to do it beyond being broken in some way.

 _I don’t want to be broken_ , he thinks to himself. _I don’t want to be like this_.

And it’s like Ryan can hear what Shane’s thinking, because barely a second passes before there’s fingers pressing gentle and insistent under his chin, lifting his head up until he’s looking at Ryan for the first time in… well, Shane doesn’t actually know.

“Hey,” Ryan says once there’s eye contact, and his voice is soft and gentle and understanding and _loving_ and Shane wants to wrap himself up in it and go to sleep and never think about the world outside the two of them and his apartment ever again. “Shane. Liam was wrong, alright? There’s nothing wrong with you.”

“But there _is_ ,” Shane insists softly, quietly. _I’m broken_. “I- this is- it’s not-“

“Don’t say it’s not natural,” Ryan butts in, and Shane shuts his mouth and falls silent and looks back down at where the red fabric of his sweater presses against the grey of Ryan’s hoodie, and doesn’t say any more. “Because it’s- that’s fucking _bullshit_ , alright? Being asexual is completely natural, Shane.”

Shane doesn’t say _It isn’t_.

Shane doesn’t say _I don’t believe you_.

Shane doesn’t say _I don’t want to be asexual_.

He just says “Okay,” and feels the little affirmation settle in with all the others that Ryan has said to him over the last several months, and he feels a little better. He trusts Ryan. He trusts Ryan with his life. He trusts Ryan with his heart, and with his asexuality, and, somehow, that is the most terrifying trust of them all.

He knows Ryan wouldn’t lie to him.

He thinks on Ryan’s words, and Ryan’s reassurances, and breathes in a shaky breath.

There’s a light tap to his chin, and he looks back up just in time for Ryan to press a kiss to his lips. “It’s alright,” Ryan says softly, “It’s alright to be asexual, Shane.”

Shane forces himself to say “I know,” and if it comes out a bit shaky and a bit uncertain then Ryan doesn’t question it. He just smiles, soft and sweet and in that particular way that Shane never sees anywhere else, and Shane feels his heart turn to sunlight inside his chest. “I know,” he repeats, and it’s a bit stronger this time, a bit more certain. Ryan smiles again, leans in to press another kiss to Shane’s lips, and Shane feels the sunlight spread through his veins and into his bones. _I love you_ , he thinks, and says, and Ryan grins against his lips and lifts a hand from Shane’s back to run it through his hair instead, and Shane keens slightly at the loss and Ryan’s hand returns to his back within seconds, settling between Shane’s shoulder blades like it belongs there.

“I love you too,” Ryan says, and Shane shuts his eyes and drowns in those four words. He feels the pressure of lips against his cheek. “I love you,” Ryan says, and kisses him again. “I love you. I love you. I love you.”

“I love you,” Shane murmurs, because he feels like he doesn’t say it enough, and he needs Ryan to _know_. He needs Ryan to understand just how much he loves him, how much he loves that Ryan lets him be small and uncertain and afraid, and how much he loves that he can be asexual, and Ryan can not be, and that Ryan _doesn’t care_. He loves that. He loves Ryan. He needs him to know.

He ducks his head, eyes still shut, and presses a kiss just under the curve of Ryan’s jaw. He doesn’t need to look to do it, he’s done it so many times.

“Baby,” Ryan murmurs, and his hands run across Shane’s back for a while before one slips under Shane’s shirt, making him shiver, and the other wraps heavy and solid around Shane’s shoulders. “ _Shane_.”

“I love you.”

“I know you do. You gonna come up here so I can kiss you?”

“…Yeah.” Shane lifts his head, and opens his eyes, and sees Ryan’s smile and feels like he should be blinded by it.

“Can I actually kiss you know?” Ryan asks, and Shane smiles a little to himself and nods, and then Ryan kisses him and, for a while, the world seems to right itself.

His heart calms, and his mind quietens, and everything narrows down to Ryan’s lips on his, and for the first time in ages Shane feels like he can actually _breathe_ again.

It’s wonderful.

When the kiss ends, Ryan doesn’t let Shane look away, but this time he doesn’t need to. Shane’s alright with eye contact again now, no longer feels like he has so much to hide, and so when Ryan gently shifts his head to look at him Shane follows the motion easily.

“Do you feel better now?” Ryan asks, and Shane nods.

“Yeah.” He does. He really does. He thinks he needed to let a lot of that out.

Ryan smiles, and lifts a hand to scratch at Shane’s scalp. Shane doesn’t miss the contact on his back this time. This is nice too. “You know,” Ryan says, all soft and thoughtful like he’s about to say he forgot something, “I _did_ bring a movie with me, just like you asked.”

Oh, right. Shane _had_ asked that. “Oh.”

“Mm. You wanna watch it?”

“Yeah.” There’s a pause. “Thank you.”

“What for?” _For the movie or for everything else_ goes unspoken.

“All of it.”

Ryan smiles, and kisses Shane again. “Any time, baby.”

 


End file.
